I met Miranda when was I was around 6. She went to my church. I’ll admitt that I don’t remember much of her before she was 13 or so, but she was always there in my life. Every Sunday, she would be there in church with her aunt. I would never question her relationship with her aunt much, I somehow knew that she lived with her for reasons that were very complicated and not something to ask about.

Miranda was the type of girl whom was the topic of whispers by old women in the pews. And although I certainly never overly fond of her, I was taught by my parents growing up that the people you dislike are the people to be nicest to. So I would always be pleasant to her. My church is very small, so we would always be having conversations.

As she grew up, she started acting out. Her temper was something to watch out for, and she truely had a mind of her own. She said, did, thought whatever she wanted to, no matter what the effects were. My mother always used to say that she “lacked a social filter”. Now she just says that she’s “self-distructive”.

We ended up going to school together, a fact in which i was not happy to hear about, but decided to keep within the confindes of my family. In those years that i went to school with her, i found out a lot about her, whether through her openess in her history as a means of justifing her actions, or through my family in the times when i was utterly stumped by her. Her mother was addicted to drugs and lived in New York, her father was abusive. The state eventually took her away, and she became the rope in a gme of tug in war between many, yet equally unhealthy, familes. Although the fact is still clouded in mystery, it’s believed that there was some sort of abuse inflicted on her. What kind, by who, when, is all unknown.

Not many people liked Miranda at our new school. We carpooled since we lived in the same town, and I’ll admitt that i tried to distance myself as far away from her as possible. But i had formed a sort of protective coating against Miranda’s shocking actions. These classmates i was trying to prove myself do never saw what was coming. They were offended, shocked, and i think it’s safe to say, scared of Miranda. She was loud, defiant, and unlike anyone they had ever encountered. And although i didn’t want to be connected to her, whenever someone would gossip about her or say cruel things about her, i would always stand up for her. How could they have possibly understood? She had never been as priviledged as they had, she was messed up. They only knew that she lived with her aunt, a thing i was often questioned about. Over the years they pieced a small part of the puzzle together. But the picture that puzzle showed was so upsetting that one piece was enough. Soon she was a proud outcast, someone who was proud in the fact that she would never change, but also wanted to have something in common with someone. People had given up on her, but she had yet to give up on people.

I saw slowly that light in her leave. She started to figure out that people who didn’t know her, didn’t want to get to know her. Her reputation had caught up with her. She was flailing around, hoping to grab on to something with some stability. I was too afraid to give her the amount of help she needed. Her lies became absurd. Imaginary boyfriends, fights, friends, mothers and fathers, all were invented within the handful of minutes we had for lunch during school. I see know that what she was telling us wasn’t the life she had was the life she wanted, and she only hoped her smile was convincing enough to sell the story. Often it was for attention, because avoiding trouble became synonymous with avoiding Miranda. She started screaming at teachers, cheating, and telling the world her dirty laundry. She only wanted someone to see her despiration, and to help her. No one did.

At the beginning of freshmen year, she started cutting herself. Her scars covered her wrists, and she wasn’t one for hiding them. People saw them, and it was the hot gossip for a few periods. But people had built up their protective coating by this time. But instead of being able to let her rudeness roll off them like i had with my coating, they used their to let everything Miranda did chalk up to attention-seeking, and moved on. They took everything she did the wrong way. She was looking for attention, of course. But it wasn’t just so that she would be the center of attention. No, Miranda hoped that if she cast the net of tradgety far enough, maybe she would catch a fish she could use as a true friend. I couldn’t be that for her, i would tell her. But now i see that it was more than possible for me to be what she needed. But i wasn’t able to risk my social status then. I wish i was braver then.

In case you couldn’t guess, Miranda eventually got kicked out of school. Between racist comments, throwing things in the classroom, cheating, screaming at teachers and students alike, and stealing, the school decided that her tutition wasn’t worth it. They gave up on her. When I heard, i felt like i had been punched in the stomache. My classmates were happy, a “drama free year” was cetain without her. But Miranda, annoying enough, was a person i had known for 8 years by that time. I had been confirmed with her. Seen the skeletons in her closet. I cared about her. And her condition wasn’t getting better.

Her aunt, a teacher, had worked hard to make sure that Miranda could go to a private school. Her anger over Miranda throwing away such an oppurtunity caused the majority of frustration in the house. They argued often. Miranda tried to runaway many times, was grounded essentially for the rest of her life, and snuck around with boys. I heard less and less of her though. Eventually, word came back that Miranda was beating her aunt, to the point where the aunt was scared for her own safety. After 11 years of investing everything she had into Miranda, her aunt was eventually forced to offer Miranda to foster care. Although i try to understand her aunt’s point of view, i can’t help but feel like yet another person has given up on Miranda. Her aunt still loves her, and asks that we pray for her every Sunday. But she still have her up to foster care. I can’t imagine what Miranda felt when she heard that her aunt didn’t want her living with her anymore. One more person that was done with her. That was kicking her out. That was rejecting her. It may sound irrational to you, afterall, Miranda was practically asking for it. But i just wish that her aunt had been able to stay with her, if only for a few more months. Then maybe she would’ve been able to get through to her.

Last Sunday, Miranda’s aunt asked the congregation to pray for Miranda. When i talked with her after service, she told me about how Miranda was interviewing for a group home. During the interview, Miranda asked the head of the home if there was a church nearby, stating proudly that she was a member of the United Church of Christ, and wanted to attend church on Sundays. I hope God saw this, and clears the clouds from Miranda’s mind. I hope light will finally fall on the path that God set for her in the beginning, and that someone will be able to guide her down it. I still see her once in a while, and i make sure that i always give her a hug, talk to her. I will be there for her this time.